Strange Affair

Still, he reflected, munching on a slice of toast and marmalade as he sca

And now brother Roy, who hadn’t even rung or visited him in the hospital, had left a mysterious urgent message and had not called back. For the third time since he got up that morning, Banks tried Roy’s numbers. He got the answering machine again, the recorded voice telling him to leave a message, and the mobile was still switched off.

Unable to concentrate on the newspaper any longer, Banks checked his watch and decided to ring his parents. They should be up by now. There was just a chance that Roy was there, or that they knew what was going on. He certainly seemed to keep in touch with them more than with Banks.

His mother answered and sounded nervous to be getting a call so early in the day. In her world, Banks knew, early-morning phone calls never meant good news. “Alan? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“No, Mum,” Banks said, trying to put her at ease. “Everything’s fine.”

“You’re all right, are you? Still recovering?”

“Still recovering,” said Banks. “Look, Mum, I was wondering if our Roy was there.”

“Roy? Why would he be here? The last time we saw Roy was our a

“I remember,” said Banks. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to ring him…”

His mother’s voice brightened. “So you two are making it up at last. That’s good to hear.”

“Yes,” said Banks, not wishing to disabuse his mother of that scrap of comfort. “It’s just that I keep getting his answering machine.”

“Well, he’s probably at work. You know how hardworking our Roy is. Always got something or other on the go.”

“Yes,” Banks agreed. Usually something about two shades away from being criminal. White-collar, though, which didn’t seem to count as crime to some people. When Banks thought about it, he realized he really hadn’t a clue what Roy actually did to make his money. Only that he made a lot of it. “So you haven’t heard from him recently?”

“I didn’t say that. As a matter of fact he rang about two weeks ago, just to see how your dad and I are doing, like.”

The implied rebuke wasn’t lost on Banks; he hadn’t rung his parents for a month. “Did he have anything else to say?”

“Not much. Except he’s keeping busy. He might be away, you know. Have you thought about that? He did say something about an important business trip coming up. New York again, I think. He’s always going there. I can’t remember when he said he was going, though.”

“Okay, Mum,” said Banks. “That’s probably where he is. Thanks very much. I’ll wait a few days and call him when he gets back home.”

“You make sure you do, Alan. He’s a good lad, is Roy. I don’t know why you two haven’t been getting on better all these years.”

“We get along fine, Mum. We just move in different circles, that’s all. How’s Dad?”

“Same as ever.” Banks heard the rustle of a newspaper – the Daily Mail his father read just so he could complain about the Conservatives – and a muffled voice in the background. “He says to say hello.”

“Right,” said Banks. “Say hello back… Well, take care of yourselves. I’ll call again soon.”

“Mind you do,” said Banks’s mother.

Banks rang off, tried Roy’s both numbers once again, but still no Roy. There was no way he was going to wait a few days, or even hours. From what he knew of Roy, under normal circumstances if he had buggered off somewhere and not bothered to ring back, Banks would have assumed he was su

He deleted the message from his answering service, threw a few clothes along with his toothbrush and razor into an overnight bag, checked that the lights were out, unplugged all the electrical items and locked the flat behind him. He knew he wouldn’t get any rest until he got to the bottom of Roy’s odd silence, so he might as well drive down to London and find out what was happening himself.

Detective Superintendent Gristhorpe called the meeting in the boardroom of Western Area Headquarters after lunch, and DI A

Soon, when the investigation got seriously under way, more manpower would be allocated, but these seven would remain the core team. Gristhorpe as senior investigative officer and A

Gristhorpe cleared his throat, shuffled his papers and began by asking A

“Any forensics yet?”

“It’s still early days,” said Stefan, “so I’m afraid all I can give you at the moment is what we don’t have.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the road surface was dry and there are no discernible tire tracks from any other vehicle. Also, we haven’t turned up any physical evidence – discarded cigarette ends, spent matches, that sort of thing. There are plenty of prints on the outside of the car, so that will take Vic Manson a while to sort out, but they could be anyone’s.”

“What about inside the car?” Gristhorpe asked.

“It’s in the police garage right now, sir. We should know something later today. There is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“It looks as if she was definitely forced off the road. The left wing hit the drystone wall.”

“But there was no damage to the right wing, at least not that I could see,” A

“That’s right,” Stefan agreed. “The car that forced her over didn’t make physical contact. Pity. We might have got some nice paint samples.”

“Keep looking,” said Gristhorpe.

“Anyway,” Stefan went on, “whoever it was must have got in front of her and veered to the left rather than come at her directly from the side.”

“Well,” said Gristhorpe, “what do you do if a you’re a woman alone and a car comes up fast behind you on a deserted country road at night?”

“I’d say either you take off like a bat out of hell or you slow down and let him get by and put as much distance as possible between the two of you,” said A